“It’s your birthday today, May Day. Then his beard was of a reddish hue, and his complexion warm and sanguine. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. I have suffered—I have sinned—I have repented. Also she made little pussy-like sounds of a reassuring nature.
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